Commander Redbeard wrote:Anardan knocked on the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing in the chamber behind it. The pacing footsteps beyond halted, turned, and then the lock clicked and the door swung inward. Anardan stood to attention and saluted.

"Lord Bjarn, sir."

"Yes, Anardan?"

"If you have time, there's a prisoner we have in the dungeons I would like you to interrogate. We apprehended him several miles past the border, and he told that he was sent by a wizard, his task he seems unwilling to reveal. I do not know what to make of him, so I thought you should come hear his story.".

Grid: M-8
Location: Drullen Bell Keep

Bjarn looked down at the parchment that he had been writing on, then glanced back at Anardan. He had been writing about his epic adventures with the Misfits, and had progressed quickly to the sinking of the Shadow and the escape from the Eastern Knight's Kingdom courtyard, but had come to a dead end when he had tried to explain what happened next.

"I've seemed to written myself into a corner," said Bjarn, setting his quill aside and wiping his inky hands on a damp towel, "I'll come down to the dungeons and hear what he has to say."

Anardan nodded and they both proceed to the dungeons. The two Forestmen standing guard stood to attention and saluted, then swung open the barred gate to the dungeons, letting Lord Bjarn and Captain Anardan pass through. Anardan silently led the way to the prisoner's cell and unlocked it. They both entered. Bjarn remained standing, as did Anardan.

Bjarn began gruffly, "I am Lord Bjarn, leader of the League of Forestmen, master of the keep of Drullen Bell, governor of the capital city of Delvarden Gard, and sovereign over the Forestmen state and territories. Captain Anardan here tells me you trespassed on Forestmen lands. First, what is your name?"

"Kale."

"And why were you trespassing on Forestmen lands?"

"I needed, and still need to, head south."

"For what reason?"

"To fulfill a wizard's bidding."

Bjarn raised his eyebrows and glanced at Anardan, who nodded.

"Indeed? What was this wizard's bidding?"

"I cannot say."

"Cannot or will not?"

"Both."

"I see."

Bjarn studied Kale a moment then turned to Anardan.

"Did this man attempt to flee when confronted by Forestmen?"

"No, sir."

"Did he battle?"

"No, sir."

Bjarn turned back to Kale.

"You submitted freely?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was surrounded and outnumbered. I meant, and still mean, no harm. I simply wish to go south."

Bjarn turned back to Anardan.

"Did this man harm any wildlife? Did he poach? Did he harm our trees?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

Bjarn turned once again to Kale.

"And you mean no harm to the Forestmen county and it's people?"

"None. I simply want to continue on my quest."

Bjarn pondered this for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, then said briskly, "Captain Anardan, you will gather a command of ten men and escort this man to the southern Forestmen border. Use all standard prisoner transport procedures; blindfolds, etcetera. He is not to harmed in any way, unless he attempts to escape while on or back into Forestmen lands. Understand?"

"Aye sir!" Anardan saluted.

Bjarn turned to Kale.

"Milord, my thanks." Kale said, slightly bowing.

Bjarn simply nodded, then said, "Captain Anardan, Kale, good day."

Bjarn exited the cell and the dungeon and returned to his chamber. He sat at his desk, stared at the parchment, and then broke into a smile. Then he picked up his quill, and continued to write.

And wait Viktor did. For eight days he waited either on or below the deck of the renegade Crusader vessel Bombardier. For eight days he did next to nothing, swigging Captain Broadside’s ‘magic’ sea-sickness-curing brew and snoring in his bunk. Viktor, though a fine warrior, was a self-described ‘land animal’, and couldn’t weigh an anchor or let loose a sail or even tie a good sailor’s knot to save his life. The other sailors resented that. They couldn’t see the worth of keeping a good-for-nothing runaway convicted criminal who couldn’t pay or work for his stay. They probably would have thrown him overboard if they had known he was an Eastern Knight’s Kingdomer.

However, Viktor had a single ally, and that was Captain Jacques Broadside. Broadside was convinced Viktor somehow, someway, for some reason, knew where the scurvy pirate Burtrand Storm-Rider was and where he was going, and Broadside was intent on catching Storm-Rider. So, Viktor stayed, precariously stuck between a crew that disliked him, a captain who sought knowledge Viktor didn’t have, and the very wide and very deep ocean. For now, Viktor’s ruse would hold up, but he vague order to “head south” would only last until the Bombardier ran into Kingdom Isle. Then Viktor would be in trouble when Broadside asked for new directions. Big trouble. Viktor knew his only hope was for the ship’s lookout to actually catch sight of the phantom ship Mantis. Then Broadside could order a chase, and Viktor would be relieved of his duty of guide.

Speaking of chase, Viktor had another worry: that other phantom ship, the one behind them, the Crusader warship that was obviously set on overtaking the Bombardier. If it succeeded, it would be back to the gallows for Viktor. Then he’d have to escape all over again, and he doubted Tim E. would be there to save him again with his so-called BURPs. Yes, that other ship was a big problem. As far as the lookout could tell, the Crusader ship hadn’t made any progress in the last week. It remained a minute floating sail on the edge of the horizon.

“Don’t ye worry yeself.” Broadside comforted, “The lass Bombardier be a mighty fine ship, that she be. She be a notch above any normal Crusader vessel.”

Instantly the Bombardier exploded to life. Men already on deck swarmed up the rigging like monkeys, and they were soon followed by their comrades coming up from below. More sailors crowded around the decks like so many ants, armed with rope and adrenaline. Up at the helm, Broadside turned to Viktor.

Captain Johnson descended to the main deck and made he way forward. He drew out his spyglass and trained it on the sail on the horizon.

“Ah…my pirate ship…you remain distant now, but make one stumble, one wrong tact, and I’ll be that much closer to you. You will be mine. Pirates will fall to the mighty fleet of the Crusaders.”

Captain Johnson squinted, then adjusted his spyglass ever so slightly. His brow furrowed. He stowed away the glass and returned to the helm.

“Mr. O’Brien…keep a sharp ear for Mr. Bloom’s call. Methinks perhaps a storm awaits us, but I am not certain.”

“Aye-Aye, Cap’n.”

Up in the crow’s nest, the lookout Mr. Bloom was snoring, sleeping off his covert delve into the grog barrel he had indulged in last night.

=====================================

Yes, Rosa would find her opportune moment...it would come...it would come...

“Why does the ship rock so? It makes me ill…” Anastasia moaned.

Rosa said nothing. She was curled up in a corner, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms around her legs. She, too, felt ill, but more so than the Crusader princess. She was used to the steady rocking of a ship when it traversed calm seas, but from the rocking, she knew the seas, while certainly not yet rolling, were getting quite choppy.

There was a clang and several thumps. A pirate had entered the brig. It was Peggy, their new ‘tender’. Peggy had gotten the job of feeding and cleaning up the prisoner’s messes after Marble Eye had both lost his namesake and most of his teeth.

“’Ello, lassies!” called Peggy, stumping along with a tray in his hands. Peggy, as implied by his name, had a peg leg, and he had his very own distinctive walk. Ka-thump, shuffle, ka-thump, shuffle…

“The old Mantis’ in fer a beatin’, I can telly.” he cackled, tossing the tray in between the bars to avoid Rosa’s lashing arms, “Bloody storm brewin’!”

Peggy stumped off, leaving Anastasia and Rosa alone. Rosa looked at the stale bread and dirty water on the tray and thrust it aside. She was already too ill to eat, and if what the old salt said was true and the storm was bound to get worse…well, she didn’t want anything in her stomach to throw up.

Formendacil wrote:"You too, sir," said Jayko. The knights shook hands, and Sir Dractor headed for another ship while Jayko headed up into the city. It was good to be home!

On his way up through the city, Jayko ran into a familiar face. It Sir Jayson deTalon, his captain of the guard. The captain was astride a handsomely-bardinged white charger, and was being escorted by a squad of the local, light blue-clad soldiers.

"Sir Jayson!" called Jayko. "Good to see you!" The captain and his men halted. Sir Jayson dismounted from his horse, and walked over to Jayko.

"Is it who I think it is? Jayko Falconensis?" he said, peering at the younger man. Anyone watching would have been highly amused. Jayko and Jayson were both wearing the light blue armour and light blue tunics and trousers that marked the nobility of Talonjay province. Both were clasping golden swords in the Eastern Knight's Kingdom style, and both were holding octagonal shields embossed with the double-golden falcon image of the province. There was no discernable way to tell which was which, other than the faces.

"Yes, I am," said Sir Jayko. "I have returned. How fared things in my absence?"

"Just splendid," said Sir Jayson. "We drove the Alendani out of the city months ago. And things have been marvellous since." Something in Sir Jayson's voice made Jayko a bit tremulous.

"Well, that's ah... good," he said. "Anyways, I'm back, and I intend to do a better job than I did before. I want to be a useful Baron, and not just the 'guy who lives in the Castle'."

"Unfortunately," said Sir Jayson with a sneer, "that position is already filled. Talonjay has a new Baron, and Barleyburg a new governor."

Jayko was shocked, although he should really have seen it coming. "Who?"

"You're looking at him," said Sir Jayson with a smug smile.

It was like a blow to Jayko's stomach. His loyal captain of the guard had replaced him. Had he been THAT bad of a leader? He hadn't been gone that long, only eight months or something. That wasn't too long, the city could have got on without him.

"You seem a bit startled, Sir Jayko," said Sir Jayson heartlessly. "Have you perhaps forgotten how you left the city? You snuck out, fled in terror as the people were invaded by our great rivals. You, who should have rallied their defence, abandoned them. And then you did not return. For months. Even after we regained the city. The only Talonjain to have seen you since you fled saw you at Orion: a drunk and dissolute hanger-onner of some Classic prince. And you expect to return and find everything waiting for you? Did you, Sir Jayko?"

Something snapped in Jayko. He was no wiser, no smarter, no physically different than before, but his will was iron-hard. He had spent a great deal of time with people passionately devoted to great causes: the Old Man, Sir Dractor, Elwen, Quorandis, Elbadar. He had seen many examples of resolute bravery. And deep within him, the pride in his people and in his station rebelled against what Sir Jayson was telling him.

"That's Baron Jayko to you," snapped back at Jayson, who was so startled at this unexpected outburst from Jayko that he remained silent as Jayko continued. "What I have done was my decision, not yours! I am back now, and I am the rightful Baron of Talonjay. The King has not rescinded the right of my house to rule, has he?"

"The king?" laughed Jayson. "You know full well he has little real power in Talonjay. No more than he does in Alendan, or any of the provinces. Let him tend to the foreign policy, and the government of Morcia. If he were to meddle in local politics, he knows he'd have all the barons up in arms. The people have accepted me as Baron, and I command Castle Talonjay. That is all that is necessary to be Baron. The House of Falconensis rules here now more; this is now the land of the House deTalon."

"You have no RIGHT to rule in the presence of the lawfully-appointed Baron," said Jayko. "I will do my utmost to regain my birthright!"

Sir Jayson wasn't even listening. He remounted his horse, and started back down the street.

"You do that," he said patronisingly. "If you can find anyone who will support you. If you will excuse me, Falconensis, I have a job to do."

Dragoman wrote:But before they knew it the Mauler hit the sandy ground. And they were safe… or so they thought.

Theron then began to have a bad feeling that he and his men were not out of dark waters just yet. Knowing his instincts have never failed him, he knew everyone needed to get off the Mauler now.

“Lower the gangplank!” he exclaimed “abandon ship!!!”

No one had to be told twice after seeing what had happened to the Mortem and Courtest. They were more than glad to get on to dry land and away from the murky waters.
But just as the last few solders were evocating and Theron still aboard, the ship began to gently wobble which quickly became a heavy josling.

Theron notice the ship was staring to be swayed back in the waters and he recognized right then that he had to get off. But before he was able to reach the gangplank a large tentacle swirled out from the gloomy blue and crashed it down in to two peaces. When Theron saw this he became very frustrated, he had lost two scorpions ships and close to 80 men to this thing and he didn’t even know what it was. But just then he realize something and with that realization he came to a sense of relief for the creature had reveled that it was indeed a physical beast when it had smashed down the plank and not some enchantment of which he had no way to combat.

After realizing this, he gave a smirk and thought to him self: at last, something for me to kill.

With that he pulled out one of his spears and started to run his way towards the back of the quaking ship near where the tentacle had came from.

But when he had got there he saw not just one but many tentacles clinging to the Mauler. And it looked as if the tentacles were rapping around the hull of the ship trying to get a better grip. Theron couldn’t let this happen now knowing what it was. If he lost the Mauler to this great beast then there would be little hope of ever getting off the island, not to mention he would loose the supplies that were still onboard.

So Theron took his spear and went to find a vital point to strike, but there was none, only tentacles. The beast itself seemed to be submerged and only a gloomy outline could be made out. So Theron gathered his strength and throw his great spear toward the dark shadow beneath the water’s surface hoping against hope that it would pierce its flesh.

And so it did, and with it a huge kraken came up writhing in pain released the ship and began to thrash around in the waters it was still partially in. This was what Theron was hoping for and so he pulled out his second spear seeing that the first had not gone in far enough and jumped out from the Mauler and attacked the mighty kraken from above, and while still in midair he through his spear with both hands over head in to the kraken. When it had hit the beast the mighty force of from Theron’s arm had pushed the spear so far in the kraken’s brain that the entire spear could no longer be seen. And so the krakan died and moved no more.

When the ship hand stopped moving around the Shadow Knight solders became very anxious about what had happened for all they had seen was there brave commander just suddenly run and jump off the ship with his spear in hand toward the tentacle beast and then the sudden thrashing of water.

They all stood silently waiting to see if Theron had some how been victorious or did kraken kill him and then just left.

Breaking the silence and solder said: “he's dead”

And almost just after saying these word the great kraken killer emerged for from the waves caring both spears in hand and began to walk his way towards his bewildered men.

With out resting a moment he began: “let’s start a fire and setup camp, we will stay here for the night and at dusk I’ll lead a group to survey the land."

Last edited by Dragoman on Fri May 06, 2005 6:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

M-16
Burtrand Storm-Rider scanned the horizon to the south. A storm was brewing there. Already the waves were becoming choppy. It was coming north.

“Are ye sure we can outrun it sir?”

“Sure? Course I’m not, but I needn’t remind ye what will happen if we’re caught here in the straits. That northward gale would sweep us right into the shores of Knights Kingdom. We’d be run aground at best. And I’ll trust ye to follow my orders. Batten down the hatches but leave the sails. We’re gonna make a run for it and get out of the squall’s path before it hits. Westward ho.”

“Aye sir. You gave those orders before and we done em. We’re set fer a storm excepting the sails. But…eh”

“Yes?”

“Couldn’t we make harbor along the coast? Just until the storm passes.”

“Smythe. We’re pirates. Think about it. No we’re going to take a chance. They don’t call me storm rider for nothing.”

“Uh, one more thing sir. Slitcherd’s waiting in your cabin.”
~
Burtrand opened the door with slam. “Do you have it?”

“Aye,” said Slitcherd. “I has it. Slipped it out of his pocket when he weren’t look’n. Is this what you wanted?” The greasy pirate held out a small, smooth, green colored stone with a dark hue.

“Aye, that’s it.” Said Sydney. “That’s the magic rock.”

“We’ll see.” Said the captain. He grabbed Slitcherd’s hand, wrapping the pirate’s bony fingers around the rock. Then, in one swift motion, he whipped out his saber and plunged it into the man’s gut.

The captain had seen this scene before. The man would scream at first from the initial pain and shock, just before his face contorted into the grotesque pained expression, accompanied by short, stifled gasps. Then his eyes would roll back in their sockets as the man finally slumped to the deck.

The captain had seen this before and it was exactly what he was expecting now. But Burtrand was in for a surprise. Instead of becoming short of breath, Slitcherd only screamed louder. Now he fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. Burtrand didn’t know what to make of this. He turned to Smythe, but the first mate was more baffled then he.

At last Slitcherd began to quiet down. The bleeding too had died to a trickle.
“I don’t believe it.” Said Burtrand in shock. “It is magic!” The rock was still in Slitcherd’s fingers, clamped down by Burtrand’s own hand. “Thank ye, Slitcherd.” The captain said grinning. “Oh and by the way,” he said, bending down and looking straight into the tear streaked eyes of the gasping pirate. “You shouldn’t have stolen from me.”

And with that, he wrenched the stone out of Slitcherd’s hand and threw him onto the cabin floor. Without the rock, the pirate stood no chance and it wasn’t long before he was still.

“You killed him!” Sydney screamed. “You bloody murdered him!”

“I’m sorry Smythe.” Burtrand sneered, “Ye’ll have to find ye’reself a new spy. No one steals from me.”
The captain turned and opened the door. “Be it known,” he called out to those on deck, “that the pirate Slitcherd has been caught stealing from me and had been punished for it. Ye can take the body out of me cabin and dispose of it.”

At this there arose a loud cheer from all the pirates on deck. For there wasn’t a tear among them shed for the rat named Slitcherd.

Swift entered a large city, one that probably was a great city, but one that found it's end in this civil war. Large gothical ruins formed the remnants of the city. Corpses lay everywhere, swords and shields were shattered. There was a large courtyard with in the middle of it a statue of an angel. At the corners of the courtyard, large statues stood, avatars of famous Wol Pack warlords. Around the courtyard, large ruins stood, at the end of the courtyard stood a large massive cathedral.
Swift continued through the city. He crossed the large courtyard and walked towards the cathedral. He noted a large Dark Forest War Banner on his left. He drew his sword and carefully entered the cathedral.
Inside he saw some soldiers running around, helping to heal their comrades. Someone noticed Swift and walked up to him.

“I’m Captain Commodus, leader of this cavalry unit, well, we were a cavalry unit, who are you?”
“I’m Swift, what is a Dark Forest unit doing around here”
“Well, actually we aren’t Dark Forest anymore, we’re more like outcasts now, we served Radjar during the First Fellwar, but the big wigs believed we got ambushed, it were we who helped your friend get back to Hemlock”
“I see, why did you capture this city?”
“We were visited by a man named Bane, he told us to move towards Daggerfall, so that what we did, we are here to help you”
“What are your numbers now, I could use all the men available”
“We’re with somewhat hundred-fifty men, not counting the wounded”
“Great, pack your stuff, we’ll leave tomorrow towards the Spire”
_______________

Grid: G-7
Location: Daggerfall Spire, Throne Room

Varras sat on his large stone throne. He was deeply concentrated.
Suddenly his eyes opened again.

“General Memphala, get over here!!!” he yelled with a shrieking voice.

The general entered and greeted Varras.

“What is your wish, milord?”
“Prepare your men, triple the guards, Swift is preparing for an assault on us here”
“Yes, lord” Memphala replied and left the room.

Soon, Swift will meet his doom, and I will be unstoppable, Varras thought.

Aaylah had heard the conversation, she wanted to warn Swift, but he was far way from her, although that was what she thought, she didn’t had a clue where he was.

Varras stood up and walked towards Aaylah and laid his hand on her shoulder, she shivered, but was afraid to say anything. She felt cold when he was around. Varras looked at Aaylah and said: “Soon, your friend will be dead, and you will be all alone, alone in my large fortress, you shall rot here, slave, you shall rot on my hands, but first your friend will suffer”

Be it herewith known that the Emperor of LEGOland, Overlord of Dametreos, Constantius VII, gives Imperial Assent to the government of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons, having taken it by force from the illegal regime of General Martin Humboldt.

We order the removal of all international sanctions against the Black Falcon nation, and advise the restoration of all diplomatic ties therewith. In conjunction with the fulfillment of their financial obligations as outlined in the peace accords of February of this year, they are to be once again considered a faction in good standing among the nations of Dametreos, and once again protected by the rights and freedoms those in accord with the Emperor.

All national laws and statutes as enacted upon their own soil are to be held as legally and morally binding therein, and as under the approval of the Emperor.

In recognition of the peace treaty now enacted between the Black Falcon and Bull Knight nations, the Bull Knight kingdom is now formally recognized as containing the same territory as it did prior to the Bull-Falcon War of 1995, as well as the island territory associated with Bull Isle. The land grants of the February peace accords are rescinded by agreement between the involved parties.

Imperial Assent is herewith given to Lord Barbod to reign as rightful King of the Bulls.

Dated this 29th Day of April, in the 2005th Year C.C. in the Imperial Castle of Orion. On the authority of:

Constantius VIII, Emperor of LEGOland, King of Orion, Overlord of Dametreos, Lord of the House Legonis.

The Lone Falcon was sitting at his desk tiredly going over notes when he was interrupted by a knock. The Lone Falcon sighed, leaned back, and called, “Yes? Come in.”

The door opened and Mills entered. In one hand was tenderly cradled a pigeon. In the other was a folded parchment.

“Lone Falcon, sir, this just arrived. It bears the seal of the Classic Emperor!”

The Lone Falcon eager jumped forward and unfolded the note. He quickly scanned the contents, then read it again more slowly. A smile appeared on his wrinkled and worn face.

“Praise Chodan, praise the Emperor!” he cried with an unusual display of ferventness.

“Good news?” queried Mills.

“Grand news, grand indeed.” smiled the Lone Falcon, “Here, you read it while I write a reply.”

The Lone Falcon returned to his desk, drew out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write as Mills, still clutching his bird, read the Emperor’s letter.

“This is it, then?” said Mills, “The Black Falcons are a legitimate faction once again?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Mills let a out a patriotic whoop.

“Here,” said the Lone Falcon, handing Mills his reply, “Get this out as soon as possible. Oh, and-”

The Lone Falcon passed over a stack of other letters.

“Send these to the noted capitals. The only way the Black Falcons will rise to our former glory will be with the aid of our allies.”

Mills nodded vigorously and left the room, beaming. The Lone Falcon sank back down onto his chair and continued writing. He was interrupted again after ten minutes by another knock. It was Freena and Bersun.

“Yes?”

Bersun spoke, “Lone Falcon, sir, we’ve found Martin Humboldt.”

“Indeed? Have you taken him into custody?”

“He’s dead.”

“Ah.”

“It seems his escape by carriage was foiled by a platoon commanded by John Chayefky. Witnesses report John dueled with Martin but was killed. Another man by the name of Nicolas Cratchett then shot Martin dead.”

The Lone Falcon bowed his head. “I knew John well. He was a good man. And a father. And a husband.”

Freena nodded. “Cremation preparations for him are already underway.”

“What have you done with Martin Humboldt’s body?”

“It awaits burial.”

The Lone Falcon shook his head.

“No. Don’t bury him. Cremate him.”

Bersun and Freena looked at one another, shocked. By tradition, most Black Falcons were cremated. It was believed the smoke of the cremated one would rise to heaven in the lungs of the falcons of the air. Only enemies of the state and criminals were buried.

“Cremate Humboldt?” repeated Freena.

“Yes.” nodded the Lone Falcon, “And all who were loyal to him who fell. They are fellow Black Falcons too. They may have been corrupted, but they are Black Falcons. Our brothers, our sisters, our kin. They do not deserve to be thrown moldering into the ground, to be eaten by worms and maggots. Cremate them.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Bersun and Freena bowed, and left the room. The Lone Falcon returned to his paperwork. However, once again, he was interrupted.

“Lone Falcon?” came Vanderdious’s voice through the door, “Are you busy?”

“Very.” replied the Lone Falcon, “But enter anyway. It seems this paperwork is destined to not get done.”

Vanderdious entered, smirking.

“Not so great, being the interim leader of the Black Falcon nation?”

“It’s like trying to keep together a decomposing mummy while running.” muttered the Lone Falcon, rubbing his eyes, “I’d rather face the smelly Ogre any day.”

Vanderdious chuckled and leaned on the desk, glancing over all of the Lone Falcon’s notes.

“I agree. Ever since I read that little speech you gave me in front of all those Black Falcon brass I’ve been hounded with questions, demands and a whole lot more. Seems I’m the Rebel Resistance’s new Public Relations guy.”

“You fit the role perfectly.” said the Lone Falcon, “But don’t worry, once we all get this blasted government slapped together us poor Rebels can retire and let the politicians take over.”

“I’d like that.”

“How go the interim committee elections and debates?”

“It’s a mad house. Without any legitimate heir, the Black Falcon parliament is stuck between a rock and a hard place, if you’ll pardon the horrible cliché. About the only thing that’s been voted upon is who is to be Prime Minister.”

“And?”

“Lord Drakko won that position easily. But as I said, we can’t get much further without this Graygon fellow.”

The Lone Falcon shook his head. “Randolph left over a month ago and there’s been no word since. I am worried.”

There was yet another knock on the Lone Falcon’s door. Mayriz entered, babbling excitedly.

“Milord Lone Falcon, Randolph’s returned…and he’s found the heir!”

“Speak of the devil.” Vanderdious smirked as a haggard Randolph entered, followed by three other persons.

“Lone Falcon, Vander.” nodded Randolph, “may I introduce Graygon, who is the son of Helen Falconis, the daughter of Susannah Falconis, the former wife of Falconis XXVIII. These are his companions: Lord Willem Blackcloak Crowne, legitimate king of the Wolfpack empire, currently on the run from the soldiers of Lady Ciroal, and Miss Katheryn Gladwheel-Turnleaf, a Forestwoman druid.”

The Lone Falcon rose and bowed deeply to all three.

“My lords, lady.” he greeted, “I am the Lone Falcon, interim Governor of Falconis City and temporary Protector of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons. This is Vanderdious, who prefers simply to be known as a man of many masks, thought in truth he is much more. I am honored that you three willing to come at my request.”

“I imagine so.” agreed the Lone Falcon, “Please, all of you, you are most welcome. I have much to discuss with all of you, Graygon especially, but you all must be tired from your journey. Mayriz, would you please lead Lord Crowne, Lord Graygon and Lady Gladwheel-Turnleaf to the guest rooms?”

“At once.” Mayriz bobbed a curtsy, then left, beckoning the others, who left as well.

When Vanderdious and the Lone Falcon were alone again, Vanderdious said quietly, “Tell me Graygon was a Black Falcon and I’d think you had gotten too deep into the wine barrel. He’s Wolfpack through and through.”

The Lone Falcon sighed. “Yes, I saw. But who can blame him? All he has know is the ways of the Wolfpack.”

“This be just my on humble opinion,” said Vanderdious, “But methinks he’ll have a problem filling the Black Falcon throne.”

“First impressions are misleading more often than not.” retorted the Lone Falcon, “Don’t judge him before we’ve even talked to him. Still, you might be right. And…if you are…then we might be back at square one.”

“Square two or three.” corrected Vanderdious, “Square one was forming the Resistance and overthrowing the Black Falcon regime.”

“Good point.”

======================================

After a day of rest, Graygon met with the Lone Falcon. Vanderdious was also present to take notes.

They both sat. There was a silence, then the Lone Falcon said, “Well, I suppose Randolph explained why I wanted to see you?”

Graygon nodded.

“Yes. It seems I’m next in line to the Black Falcon throne.” Graygon chuckled nervously, “Imagine. Me. King Graygon of the Black Falcons!”

“Can you imagine that?” asked the Lone Falcon quietly.

Graygon sat there for a long while.

“I can see me decked out in blue, black and white with a crown on my head…” he said slowly, “but…honestly…I know nothing of politics. I couldn’t rule a county!”

“We could teach you.” said the Lone Falcon.

“You could.” Graygon nodded, “and I could learn…but…”

“But what?” the Lone Falcon cut in quickly.

“But…” Graygon looked away from the Lone Falcon and Vanderdious, to the only window in the room, “That’s my home. Out there. In the woods. In the trees. Among the Wolfpack. Among…”

“Your people?” suggested Vanderdious.

“Yes.” breathed Graygon. He looked apologetically at the Lone Falcon, “I was born a Black Falcon, an illegitimate one at that. Black Falcon blood runs in my veins…but…I was raised by the Wolfpack. They are my family, my culture, my comrades. I am bound to them. I am bound to no one here.” he waved his hands about the room.

The Lone Falcon nodded slowly.

“Do not think that I do not understand, for I do. And understand this: no one is pressuring you to do something you do not want to do. Princes have refused the Black Falcon throne before. It can happen again. If you do not want to be king of the Black Falcons, please say so.”

Graygon looked at the Lone Falcon steadily, not blinking, and said slowly, “I do not…want to be king of the Black Falcons.”

Graygon continued, “My mother, the Lady Helen Falconis, was well-versed in the matters of the Black Falcon court before she was forced to flee. She…perhaps…well…”

“You think she would be willing to ascend to the throne?” asked the Lone Falcon.

Graygon shrugged. “Possibly. But I can’t speak for her. I haven’t spoken to her for the longest of times.”

Vanderdious was back to scribbling.

“Do you know where she is?” asked the Lone Falcon.

“Aye,” Graygon nodded, “Indeed I do. During the great wildfire of ‘04, she, along with the rest of the Wolfpack, fled to the Forestmen capital city of Delvarden Gard. Even after the fires were quenched, she decided to remain at Drullen Bell Keep.”

“Indeed…” the Lone Falcon seemed to relax, “Then I must send word to Lord Bjarn…”

Jayko, not really knowing what else to do, made his way to one the few places in the city he had often frequented: the Five-Coloured Rainbow. An upscale inn in the centre of town, he had often gone there for drinks with his knights.

"Lord Jayko!" exclaimed the proprietor upon seeing him. "It is good to see you, my friend! But how is it that you are here? Lord Jayson has been saying that you would never return!"

"So I see," said Jayko, shaking his head. "But he was wrong. I have returned, whether he likes it or not. I am the Baron here, and I intend to rule."

The room went silent.

"You should not speak like that!" said the proprietor. "If word gets back to Lord Jayson that you are here, saying such things, it could mean bad news!"

"I've already seen Sir Jayson," said Jayko, "and received a rather rude shock. When I get my Castle back, he is going to be in big trouble!"

"But how will you get it back?" said the proprietor conspiratorially, and quietly. "Most of the city is loyal to Lord Jayson. Only a few of us remember you fondly, and I doubt that very many of us would want to confront Lord Jayson openly."

Let me guess, thought Jayko, Sir Jayson patronises a different inn?

"Could you call everyone that you know together?" asked Jayko. "I'd like to meet my supporters- and thank them. I promise I won't try to make them fight."

The proprietor thought for a moment. "What's the harm?" he said. "If even Lord Jayson knows that you're here, in having a bit of a party. I'll send Hob out to fetch them."

"Sir Jayson," said Jayko. "He isn't the lord."

"Yes, yes, whatever," said the proprietor, thinking more about the ale he'd sale to all of Jayko's supporters than of what Jayko was saying.

Formendacil wrote:"Could you call everyone that you know together?" asked Jayko. "I'd like to meet my supporters- and thank them. I promise I won't try to make them fight."

The proprietor thought for a moment. "What's the harm?" he said. "If even Lord Jayson knows that you're here, in having a bit of a party. I'll send Hob out to fetch them."

"Sir, sir," a soldier came running into Sir Jayson's study in Castle Talonjay.

"What is it?" asked Jayson, looking up from his paperwork.

"It's Sir Jayko Falconensis, sir," replied the soldier. "A few dozen people known to have Falconensis sympathies have been called to the Five-Coloured Rainbow! That's the inn that Sir Jayko is currently at."

"Interesting, interesting," murmured Jayson. "Have one of the men infiltrate their gathering, and have him report directly to men once it is over."

"Aye, Milord."

~~~~~~~~~

"Lord Jayko! How good to see you back! Your dear father, he'd be rolling over in his grave if he knew who sat on the baronial chair in Castle Talonjay!" An old man, proudly sporting the provincial colour of light blue in his cape and tunic was pumping Jayko's hand vigourously. Jayko had no idea who he was, or how much use, but he was very passionate about the House of Falconensis.

"Uh... Thanks," said Jayko, extricating his hand. The proprietor gave him a nod, signalling that everyone was pretty much present.

"Thank you all for coming," said Jayko. "I wanted a chance to address some of my subjects who have loyally kept me as their baron, in their hearts at least. " Jayko had noticed a suspicious trend among most of those present: they were merchants whose businesses had prospered under Jayko, and who had lost this patronage under Jayson. Only a few people, mostly older men who would remember his father, were loyal out of ideology.

"I, also, uh, wanted to make it known that I am back to stay, and that I have every intention of regaining my status, and that I will do my best to rule as a good leader of my people." Jayko noticed quite a few smiles at first, but then a few frowns as he said he would actually do his best. Perhaps some of the merchants had lost their contracts for very good reasons.

"Well, if you want any help, milord," came a voice from the back of the room, "you have my sword."

A young soldier stepped forward, clad in the livery of the Talonjain soldiers. He was about Jayko's age, and was a handsome, tall, golden-haired, muscular warrior. He was the only one present other than Jayko who was both young and ideologically loyal.

"It would be easy to take back your power, milord," he said. "All you need to do is infiltrate Castle Talonjay, and capture or kill Sir Jayson. With him gone, there are no major figures to step into the gap. None of the other knights or any of the townsmen stand high enough above each other to seriously challenge you. Take down Jayson, and you will establish yourself as front-runner. Take Castle Talonjay, and rebuild your status among the men, and your return is assured."

"What is your name, soldier?" asked Sir Jayko.

"I am Kent, son of Carogan," replied the soldier.

"Well, Kent son of Carogan," said Jayko. "I am glad to have your support. Would you be able to guide an attempt to capture or kill Jayson?"

"Aye, milord," replied Kent. "I know a time during the watches when the northwest corner is not covered. I could let down a rope, and let you in. And I know how things are set up in the Castle these days."

"Very well then," said Jayko. "Do I have any volunteers to help me regain my birthright?"

A few hands went up. It was all older men (although not the very old). None of the merchants offered any help.

"... seven, eight, nine," Jayko counted. "Nine men, and myself and Kent. That should be enough men, don't you think."

"Assuredly," said Kent.

"You're all welcome to go now," said Jayko. "Or stay and enjoy the ale. All volunteers can come with me and plan our penetration."

As the merchants dispersed to go to the bar or to return to their shops, Sir Jayson's spy slipped out and headed up to Castle Talonjay, a full report ready for his lord.

"A strike to kill me? Or capture me? That's more inventive- and brave than I would have credited him with," said Jayson. "Perhaps he has changed."

"He had the help of that soldier, Kent son of Carogan," said the soldier-spy. "Do you want him brought to you? They can't do anything without his help."

"No," said Jayson. "Let them come. Let's teach Jayko a real lesson, and capture them all in the act. We know what he's planning. There won't be any danger."

To Kjeld son of Mark, Lord of Castleton and King of the Royal Knights.

From the Lone Falcon, interim Governor of the Black Falcons.

Your Majesty,

I wish to inform you that the Black Falcon people have rebelled against the cruel regime of General Martin Humbolt. As the leader of this rebellion I am pleased to say that the Black Falcon nation will immediately begin to follow the terms of the Orion peace treaty of this February.

In accordance with this we are withdrawing all hostile forces from the Royal Knight border. As soon as may be the interim government would like to sign a peace treaty with your nation.

Trusting that the above is found to be in order and hoping that peace can be worked out I remain,

The Lone Falcon, Interim Governor of Falconis City and Lord Protector of the Black Falcons.

Kjeld read the letter over again; just to make sure he was not seeing things. At last peace. When word had come of the retaking of his land, Kjeld had been very pleased. Now he didn't have to worry about retribution. The Falcons wanted peace.

Kjeld slowly sank to his chair, unsure of his own stability. When the shock finally wore off he called his guard.

"Robert, get the scribe please."

When the scribe entered Kjeld dictated a letter to the Lone Falcon. He stated that he would very much like to sign the treaty at the Lone Falcon's convenience.

The Green Knight wrote:The captain turned and opened the door. “Be it known,” he called out to those on deck, “that the pirate Slitcherd has been caught stealing from me and had been punished for it. Ye can take the body out of me cabin and dispose of it.”

At this there arose a loud cheer from all the pirates on deck. For there wasn’t a tear among them shed for the rat named Slitcherd.

“Fourteen knots Cap’in sir. Quite a good clip for a vessel like this un. We’re being aided by the western current no doubt.”

“Good, keep up the speed as long as ye can. What we’re feeling now are only the front runners of the storm I’ll wager. There’s a mighty gale brewing behind it if those clouds are any sign. The island might buy us some time by stalling the storm, but after that it’ll be on us like shark on a turtle. Aye an we ain’t got a shell.”

“Captian!” said Smythe pulling him away from the helm. “What’re we gonna do about the Targon? He’s gonna find out about the rock pretty soon.”

“Arr, We’ll worry about that when we some to it Sydney.”

But they didn’t have to wait long, for at that moment Targon appeared on the deck. He was deathly pale, and his voice, which was already gruff from the wound Rosa gave him, was even more hoarse.

“Storm-Rider! Storm-Rider, where are you?”

“What is it, Targon?” said Burtrand, keeping one hand firmly on his saber.

“That man, the one they just threw overboard, who was he?”

“Slitcherd? Bah, nothi’n more then a slimy cur, that one.”

“Why was he killed?”

“Theft. He stole from me.”

Now Targon’s face seemed to grow even more pale. “I think ‘e stole something from me too. Just this morning he bumped into me in the way you might if ya wanted to pick a person’s pocket. I think ‘e had me rock. Please- please tell me ya searched ‘is pockets before ya threw him off.”

Burtrand gave his first make a sideways glance before he answered and Smythe took the hint. “A rock ay? Aye, I think I might have seen somett like that when I killed him. What did it look like?”

“Small, smooth, dark green! Give it back! Ya have ta give it back!” The Dragon Master’s hand went to his sword but Burtrand didn’t flinch. Sydney Smythe was in position now, having slipped off to the side when Targon appeared. Now he jumped at Targon from behind, wrapping his arm around his neck and holding a cloth to Targon’s ugly face.

There was a momentary struggle as Targon tried to free himself. He got out his sword but by then the cloth had taken it’s affects. The bulky form fell the deck coughing “Hurrugh…mercury dust…hughh.”

“Thow him in with the others.” Said Burtrand, standing over the fallen body. He reached into his pocket, feeling the little stone. Yes, things were indeed going his way.

Kor felt around the walls as he stumbled blindly through a passage of some sort , following some unseen person.

“Where on earth am I going?” he asked himself.

“You’re going out” said a youngish voice, which sounded surprisingly close to Kor.

“Who are you?”

“A friend.” now be quiet, or they’ll here us.

Kor was bursting with questions he wanted to ask, but reluctantly kept his mouth shut.

They ran though the dark for what seemed hours, never stopping. Kor was surprised that it was almost perfectly straight, and though he couldn’t see, he only fell over a few times. The path started to move up, and he could just make out a faint light ahead.

~~~~~~~~

“They what?!”

Cynan looked ashamedly at the Shadow Knight; who was pacing back and forth and pulling at his hair. “How on earth could you have let them go?!”

“Oh, I can’t blame you, can I? Well! I am blaming you! But! Since I’m such a compassionate person… I’ll give you one last chance; you go out and capture the prisoner, I’ll send some of my men with you, and if you don’t come back with them in one week, they’ll kill you.”

Formendacil wrote:"No," said Jayson. "Let them come. Let's teach Jayko a real lesson, and capture them all in the act. We know what he's planning. There won't be any danger."

"Aye, sir."

It was night. Sir Jayko, and his nine volunteers made their way under the cover of darkness to Castle Talonjay. They made their way to the ground below the northwest corner. They had only to wait a few minutes, before a rope was lowered from above them. They quickly scurried up.

Kent was waiting for them. "Everything seems to be going well," he said. "Follow me. The quickest way to Sir Jayson's chambers are this way."

As they silently crept along, Jayko noticed that they were headed for HIS old rooms.

They stepped into a corridor leading from the walls, and into the tower. Jayson's rooms were to the left, down the corridor.

No sooner had they all gone into the corridor when two groups of soldiers moved in on them, cutting them off.

Jayko and his supporters whipped out their blades, but they were outnumbered four to one, and with the exceptions of Jayko and Kent, were without armour.

"We must fight our way back to the wall," said Kent, personally leading the charge into the group of soldiers blocking their way out. Jayko and most of his men followed behind him, only a few remaining pointed down the corridor, acting as a rearguard.

Stung by the ferocity of Kent's attack, the soldiers gave way, and Jayko and his supporters burst out onto the wall. Then a tall, armoured figure appeared, and launched himself at the small group, rallying the soldiers. It was Sir Jayson, and not for no reason had he been the captain of the guard.

Jayson smashed into Jayko, ramming him against the stone crenellations. Jayko hit it on his right shoulder, his sword-arm going numb.

"This way!" called Kent, heading past the corridor entrance, down the wall. Jayko and the others followed, their number a couple less, pursued by Jayson and his men. Soon they came to a stairway leading down into the courtyard.

"Get us some horses!" called Kent, "we're going to have to flee the province. I'll hold them off!"

So while Kent stood at the top of the one-man-wide stairs, Jayko and his seven remaining followers dashed across the courtyard towards the stables. A couple of disorganised-looking soldiers tried to stop them, but Jayko's men disposed of them easilly. They broke into the stables, and each grabbed a horse. Jayko recognised his pick as his favourite riding horse from a year before. The horse recognised him too, with an eager whinny. At least some people remembered him fondly.

They rode back into the courtyard, and caught sight of Kent brilliantly duelling Sir Jayson, at the top of the stairs. But even as they watched, Sir Jayson drove the brave soldier back. Going down the stairs without watching, Kent soon lost his footing, and tumbled down the stairs to land in a heap at the bottom.

Sir Jayson dashed down the stairs, reaching Kent at the bottom, and striking him viciously with his sword. Jayko, his blood burning, led a charge of his men at Jayson. Jayson dove back up the stairs. One of Jayko's men grabbed Kent, and slung him over his saddle. Then they galloped for the gate, bursting through it before Jayson's men could stop them. They rode away at breakneck pace, heading northwards. Sir Jayson watched them from the gates as they left.

"Good riddance," he said, half to himself. "We'll see if he ever shows his face in Talonjay again.

A few miles north, Jayko halted his men. As they rested, Kent was lowered to the ground.

"How is he?" asked Jayko.

"No good, milord," said the man helping him down. "He's paralysed at the waist, and he's lost a couple quarts of blood. His time will soon be over."

Jayko bent over Kent, looking at the painful, bloodied body of his loyal subject.

"Lord Jayko?" came Kent's voice, as he caught sight of his lord. "I've failed you."

"No!" said Jayko. "You were brilliant. You were our best hope. It wasn't your fault in the least."

"I did my best," said Kent, "but it wasn't enough. Don't let this weaken your resolve, Lord Jayko. Come back and remember your people. Remember the people of Talonjay. Remember your birthright! Jayson is a not a good baron. Do not let him stay in your seat!"

"I won't," said Jayko, and as he clasped Kent's bloodied hand, he sealed it with a sworn oath. "I swear, on the name of Chodan himself, and may all the spirits of the Emperors hold me to it!, that I WILL return, and regain my lawful inheritance."

"I wish I could be there to see it," said Kent, but his voice was trailing off, and he seemed to be catching sight of something that those on earth cannot see. And then he was gone.

Jayko sat beside the dead body until morning, holding the cooling hand of the corpse. Finally he rose, and began to dig a grave. His retainers joined in silently. Soon, Kent was buried.

"His grave will soon be lost, it's location unremembered," said one of the men, "but his cause lives on thanks to his loyal sacrifice. Where to now, Lord Jayko?"

Jayko stirred from his reverie.

"Go back to Barleyburg," said Jayko, "and take up your lives again. I do not think that Sir Jayson will harm you. He might not even know who you are. But let people know what has happened! Let them know that I wish to return, and indeed that I have tried. Keep the embers of my cause alive."

"But, milord! Where shall you go? Sir Jayson will even now be seeking your head."

"I will go back to Talistrand," said Jayko. "I have friends there, who I might be able to get help from. In time, I will return."

As his men began setting the horses loose, and prepared to hike back to the city, one went to Jayko.

"Here is some money to cover your fare, milord. I'm sorry that it isn't much. Is there any way we will be able to contact you." Jayko thought a moment, then looked down at a ring, the only one he wore other than the Falconensis signet.

"This is the Falconensi Signalis," said Jayko. "Any pigeon you mark it with is supposed to seek out the Heir of the Falconensis house, wherever he is, and will return to the ring-keeper when his message is done." The older man was awed.

"Does it work?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Jayko, "I've never tried it."

Minutes later, Jayko headed for a nearby fishing village, while his men began the trek back to Barleyburg. Jayko had made an oath, and in his heart of hearts, he knew he would keep it.

Formendacil wrote:"You too, sir," said Jayko. The knights shook hands, and Sir Dractor headed for another ship while Jayko headed up into the city. It was good to be home!

Sir Dractor's ship had made good time to Port Crowne. From there, it was a quick trek northwards to the Forestman border. Only one main road led to Forestmen land from Crusader territory, and it was recently-built, the product of the new-found peace between Forestmen and Crusaders.

However, when Sir Dractor, following the road, came to the Forestman border, where two stone outposts stood, one on each side of the border, he encountered a bit of a problem.

The problem was that the Forestmen detachment refused to allow him entry into their realm.

"I'm sorry," said the captain, "but it's the orders from Drullen Bell. No non-Forestmen except for diplomatic envoys and those authorised by the Captain of the Border Forces are to enter the country."

All attempts to dissuade the Forestmen otherwise proved in vain. Normally, Sir Dractor wouldn't let a company of soldiers order him around, and would have slipped over the border elsewhere, but this was Forestmen territory, and these were Bjarn's men. Also, Sir Dractor knew well that he was no match for the woodcraft of the Forestmen rangers."

"How long would it take to send a message to Lord Bjarn?" he asked.

"Several days," replied the Forestman. "Until our relief comes."

Sir Dractor looked about helplessly. The Crusaders on the other side of the road shrugged helplessly.

"Sorry, mate," said one, "they ain't let anyone over that border in months. It's been quiet as the grave here."

It was an incredible stroke of luck for Sir Dractor that only an hour or so later, Anardan, Kale, and his escort arrived at the border. Kale was blindfolded in their midst.

"Release him here," said Anardan, undoing the blindfold. "Well, Mister Kale, assuming that you don't try to return here, you're free to go in peace."

"Thank you, captain," said Kale, politely enough, but he headed off down the road without pause, and Sir Dractor doubted if he was at all displeased to be putting the Forestmen behind him.

"Sir Dractor!" came the sound of Anardan's voice. "Is that you?"

"Anardan, good to see you!" said Sir Dractor. "I don't suppose that you can let me into your locked-up country?"

"Certainly, certainly," said Anardan, as he turned towards the detachment soldiers. "This is a close friend of Lord Bjarn, who I am well acquainted with myself. He helped our people during the Great Fire, and fought with distinction in the Battle for Orion's Gate. You can let him pass.

"Now, if you'll all excuse me," he said, turning back to Sir Dractor. "I have to be running. I need to return to the north border, where Elacil and my men are posted. Take care, Sir Dractor. It was good to see you again."

"And you as well," said Sir Dractor, and as Anardan blended seamlessly into the trees, he set off down the road towards Drullen Bell.

The new, well-paved road ended soon after, and then became a narrow, well-trod road winding through the trees. It wasn't until the next day that Sir Dractor reached Delvarden Gard and the great fortress of Drullen Bell. It's familiar visage rising out of the trees was a heartening sight to Sir Dractor. It was, he reflected, the closest thing he had to a home.

The guards at the gates recognised him immediately. Most of the garrison of the keep had spent time with him on the training grounds, and he had been a familiar site, walking the halls and courtyards of the keep.

"Welcome back, sir," said the officer on duty at the gate. "Shall I announce you to Lord Bjarn?"

"No, I think I can find him on my own. Thank you, though."

Several minutes later, Sir Dractor was rapping on the door to Bjarn's study. The scratchy sound of a quill on paper was coming from his desk.

Once Kale saw the Realm of the Forestmen was beyond the horizon, he breathed a sigh of relief. They were too nice for his liking. He felt more at home amongst the scum in Garbite. The Bull’s were of the same breed but “cleaner”.

“Megablocks the Bloody Falcons and Megablocks Erik!” The only time he ever uttered the name of his dead brother was in a curse, them and the bloody Falcons for what they did.

He was used to running long distances. Now that he was out of hostile territory, he could go at a good pace.

He ran for hours, from the early morning until sunset. He self conciously began thinking of Erik. That weazel must be enjoying his stay in the megabloks.

Kale remembered it all, more vividly then he would care for…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A long time ago…….

Kale, Erik and small group of Bull knights crawled to the top of a grassy ridge. Down below a small column of refugees shambled off in the other direction. “Come on! They’re bloody Falcons! You saw what they did back there!” The Bull knights growled in agreement.

“Why?”

The Bull’s turned to Kale. “What?” Growled Erik.
“They are just women and children, if we kill them we’ll be no better then the bloody falcons.”

The Bulls each gave him a murderous stare. Erik was silent for a moment “you’re a traitor and coward!” He spat…………………..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kale and Erik always got into arguments. Kale usauly backed down from lack of interest, but that time he wouldn’t stand for it. He enjoyed killing, but not woman and children. Erik didn’t see things that way. Kale didn’t mean to do it, it was just an accident. He was labeled a kinslayer ever since that day.

That was just one of the many disputes leading up to the Bull-Falcon war. Kale had been living as a mercenary, never venturing near his homeland. When it looked like a real war would break out he was eager to join in.

But as it turned out the Bull’s hadn’t forgotten him. Erik was always the popular one, they wouldn’t never forget what he did. But now they were dead… All of them , the King, the young prince Barbod…...

As one of Pythos most trusted servants, he knew when all of Pythos’s insane dreams came to fruition, the Bloody Falcons would pay. They’d all pay…